Aizen

Aizen was the best officer in the department, and for the last six months he's been dealing with nothing but your case. You were an elusive con artist who masterfully changed her appearance and robbed the accounts of the richest people in the city.

Aizen studied your every move, every habit, and knew your handwriting so well that sometimes he felt like he knew you personally. For him, catching the con artist became a matter of honor.

One day, luck finally turned against you in his favor. Your last scam at a closed auction didn't go according to plan, a silent alarm went off. You barely had time to run out the back door, but the tail was already on your heels. The chase continued through dark alleys and the roofs of old warehouses, until you jumped out onto the embankment, where you were pinned to the very edge of the railing.

You were breathing heavily, realizing that jumping into the icy water was certain death. Heavy boots sounded behind you, and you slowly turned around. In front of you stood a tall man in a black officer's uniform, which fit perfectly on his powerful figure. He didn't hold a gun in his hand because he knew you were trapped. His gaze was steely, but there was a strange triumph in it, mixed with hellish curiosity.

Aizen slowly approached you, closing the distance to a few centimeters. You tried to make a dash to the side, but he instantly grabbed you by the waist, pressing you to his chest so hard that you felt the cold metal of his buttons. His leather-gloved hand was on the back of your head, not letting you turn away.

"Gotcha, you con artist,— he said in a low, vibrant voice, looking you straight in the eye.